Sorry, Honey.

My husband shows amazing patience with my need to run races. Often these races are in the rain, far away from home, and require his standing in the rain far from home to both cheer for me and hand me my fuels of choice.  

Cheerios Challenge 10K
Third Female Overall
First Masters Female
My boys were impressed until
I told them that MASTERS just
means older than forty!

After the race, I take a bubblebath and rest while he takes care of household chores for the rest of the day and I lie on the couch reading Runner's World magazine and wearing my newly acquired medal.  Bless his heart. 

My husband teases me about my growing rack of medals and trinket awards. He thinks it's all about beating the competition.  He's right about a lot, but he's wrong about that one.

My running partners

I love to run for lots of reasons.  A run with my dogs on a hiking trail at dawn makes my soul sing.  Running at night with a headlamp is strangely exciting.  And running a race with a time goal and the hope of some small award is supremely exciting-- but not for the reason my husband imagines.

I think George Sheehan said it best.  The race for a new time goal or for first place is really just a race against the voice inside me that says to give up.  No matter how much I train or how often I race, that voice is always there.  And so the race goes on.  Sorry, Honey.